Bunny Tales (23 page)

But who would hurt cute, little, aged Hef? All of the men who saw him high-fived him and thanked him for years of good articles in the magazine. (Yeah, right.) It was always the same story: the son found the magazine under the father’s bed and then started his own collection, and of course
Playboy
was the first magazine that they all pleasured themselves to—or another heartwarming story like that. Out-of-towners and celebrity fanatics oohed and ahhed over Hef and the Girlfriends, asking him to pose for pictures, and sometimes an autograph, while security held them back. So if Hef was not in danger, why all the security? To keep an eye on the girls, of course.

Ironically the only time the girls got into a fight, the guards stood outside of the ladies bathroom and did nothing. I did not go out that night because I had a cold, but apparently four of the Girlfriends went into the bathroom and some of the other club-goers—you know, the bunny-blonde haters—in there started provoking them, and they pushed one of the girls. So Holly and Tammy hid in their stalls while Emma and Susan kicked some ass. Security was nowhere to be seen. But thanks for coming out, guys! A couple of times, security did get into an altercation, which usually happened when some guy was trying to come past our velvet ropes, and the few times it happened, security got too rough. There were so many of them, and they are all strong and bored, so when a fight came their way they made sure to each get a punch in there. One time in particular, I remember we had a talk with Hef about the security being too violent. I don’t recall the details, but I remember one of the girls was crying because what she saw disturbed her so much.

At around midnight, Hef would take his Viagra; it was always wrapped in a crumpled Kleenex (although Holly bought him a nice Tiffany pillbox once, he always stuck to his habits). After that he would constantly check his watch to make sure we left at the right time because if we didn’t or the timing got messed up, he wouldn’t be able to perform later. We would leave between 12:30 and 1 a.m. This caused tension among Emma and Hef and Holly. Emma, along with Susan and I, wanted to stay and have a good time instead of leaving when the party was just beginning. Many times, we saw celebrities (usually the hot male ones) arriving as we were leaving, and we resented it. So many times actors or singers came into our area to say hello to Hef and to us, and then they would stick around and start dancing or talking to the girls (
gasp
). I would immediately notice Hef getting antsy and staring at them. “Oh no, he’s getting pissed,” we would say to each other. I thought he was so insecure and jealous about other men that he needed to be the only one with a penis in his zone to feel comfortable. When he could handle it no longer, we would hear him yell at his main security man, “Mark! Mark! What the fuck is so-and-so doing? Get him out of here!” And we would stand there mortified that the celebrity had heard and would realize how rude Hef was being. There were many incidents like that over the years. He would also get pissy when we were leaving a club. We had to line up like geese and follow each other out, but eventually, some girl along the way would stop and say bye to someone she knew and halt the line. Hef is known to push and poke the girls forcibly. I remember several girls being upset and embarrassed that he pushed them like that in public. When he didn’t get his way, things would quickly get ugly.

Sometimes things got rowdy when we got back into our limo, depending on how drunk everyone was. Usually the girls who were testing for
Playboy
or the ones trying to become Hef’s new Girlfriends would take their tops off and Hef would take photos. They would start dancing, or giving other girls lap dances, which usually escalated into the girls kissing and fondling each other, to Hef’s delight. I didn’t participate in the debauchery; after the first few months at the Mansion, I never got drunk enough to do things like that. I was the jaded Girlfriend who had earned her right to just sit there and be entertained. And it was entertaining. Back in the early party posse days, it would go even further than that—the main Girlfriend would unzip Hef’s pants and pleasure him orally while the one sitting on the other side sucked on his nipple. I saw this a couple of times when I first went out with Hef, before I ever became a Girlfriend. I remember being stunned and feeling awkward, and some of the other new girls or girls testing for
Playboy
were completely disturbed. Sometimes we would get home before Hef and the participants realized it, and Hef would be zipping up his pants as security opened the back door. Eventually, I got used to it all and thought it was funny; I sat at the other end of the limo so I never got dragged into it.

Another funny thing about the limo ride home was the selection of music. Sometimes at Hef’s request, Holly would play the “Face down, ass up, that’s the way we like to fuck” song just to get everyone in the mood. I think it was done to set the tone with the new girls. I was sick of that song after months of continuous play. I was tired of the lyrics and hated the beat to begin with—to have to listen to it all the time was painful.

When we got to the Mansion, the Girlfriends would go to their own rooms to change into something more comfortable, while Holly would run a bath. Bridget usually “guided” whatever new girls came home with us, telling them what to do and how the night would unfold. Hef always asked Emma or Bridget to coach the new girls and encourage them to join him in the bedroom. The bedroom would always be prepared by Holly before we even went out to the clubs. She would lay out certain paraphernalia on the bed—toys, handcuffs, lubricants, whatever he had asked for or might come in handy. There would be porn on two screens the whole time—never unconventional or gay porn, contrary to one popular rumor I’ve heard many times. Maybe there was a time in the overindulgent, promiscuous ’70s when that happened and that is why the rumor persists, I don’t know, but I never saw any gay porn at the Mansion in the two and a half years I was there. Also, Hef never brought any men into the bedroom during the time I was there. It was only him and the girls.

We would all meet up in Hef’s bedroom. The room is beautiful architecturally—all wood with carved naked nymphs. The bed is very large and sturdy, practically built into the wall. There is a back shelf (which holds many “toys”), a big mirror behind the bed, and one on the ceiling, and there are bookshelves and a magazine rack in front of the bed with the latest copy of a variety of magazines, everything from business to entertainment to tabloids. In front of the bed, there are two huge TV/projection screens side by side. There are pictures of Hef, his wife Kimberly and the kids, and all of his past Girlfriends covering the main wall (although right before I moved out, Hef said he was going to take down all of the family photos and put up pictures of the Girlfriends). There is a couch with stuffed animals—he loves stuffed animals—in front of a fireplace. There is also a winding staircase that leads upstairs to his office/scrapbook room and connects with the movie room and the video department. And last but not least, there was clutter everywhere: hundreds of videotapes, magazines, books, and gifts from people all over the world.

This is the place where people think Hef’s deepest fantasies are played out. They imagine we’re all swingers and do all these wild things. That could not be further from the truth. First of all, I guarantee more scandalous and wild things happen at college parties than in Hef’s bedroom. I certainly had way more fun and learned much more in college than at the Playboy Mansion. Secondly, it’s not a free, uninhibited environment where anything can happen—regardless of what Hef thinks. It is a very structured setup. But you probably want details, don’t you?

12: How to Make Love like a Rabbit
.

“Here am I: at one stroke incestuous, adulteress, sodomite, and all that in a girl who only lost her maidenhead today! What progress, my friends . . . with what rapidity I advance along the thorny road of vice!”

—Marquis de Sade

T
he question that is on everyone’s mind: Does Hef really have sex with all those girls? Yes. Yes and no. All the crazy things that you think happen there do happen there. There’s just so much more to it. Everyone knows that Hef is the self-proclaimed King of Viagra. Hef was introduced to “Vitamin V” one year on his birthday when he received a gift-wrapped goodie bag from his doctor at his annual Mansion birthday party—one of the first prescriptions written for Viagra in Hollywood. And the little blue pill does its job when duty calls, meaning it does get the penis hard. Hef can and often has had sex with several girls in a row. How do I know? I have seen it many times, too many for my liking. But while I lived there, Hef was in his late seventies, and Viagra isn’t magic; it’s not like you take the pill and you all of a sudden become the world’s greatest lover. First of all, timing is everything. If the pill was not taken at an exact time in advance of the expected “performance,” then he would not be able to perform. Also, whenever there was stress or drama in the group (and trust me, this happened
a lot
), the blue pill could not do its trick; angry and frustrated, Hef would kick everyone out of the room.

When Viagra did work, it didn’t work alone. The bedroom encounters all started off the same way: Hef would lie on his back in the middle of the bed, and as some of us were getting stoned or drinking Dom, he would cover himself in baby oil. Many of the girls he slept with would get yeast infections, which they blamed on the baby oil. (To this day, the smell of baby oil makes me gag.) Holly would start off the festivities by orally pleasuring Hef until he became erect. It seemed to me as if she never wanted to let other girls do it; I assumed it was a part of her plan of sexual monopoly over Hef, which was quite
okay
with all present. As soon as she got him hard, some new girl would be ready to have sex with him. That was the thing about Hef; he was always on his back, so whoever had sex with him would have to get on top. I guess this was good because the girl was always able to control the length and the involvement of the encounter. Occasionally he would get up and get on top of a girl. It’s sad to say, but this usually happened when he wanted to have sex with some new girl who was shy or hesitant to have sex with him. He knew he would have to get up to get any action. This was rare, and though it used to crack me and my friends up, Holly’s blood boiled when this happened. She was jealous that he made an effort for anyone other then her, because the only other time Hef physically moved to have sex was for a particular scenario, and that scenario involved only her.

After the first girl had her brief session with Hef, there was a second and a third ... and sometimes even a fourth would do the same. Finally, when it was confirmed that no one else wanted to “go,” it would be Holly’s turn to assume the position. However, by that time Hef was already limp and Holly would have to orally excite him and get him going again. I think it gave her a sense of power to always be the one to get him hard. Frankly, I thought it was disgusting that she would do that after all those girls (even if it was just one) were with him. Most of the time they would do a 69er; I think it was for show, but it was the only thing that would get him hard again. Finally Hef and Holly would have sex, in any position. (That appeared to me to be the distinguishing mark of the number one Girlfriend—not only was she the only one who had sex with him regularly, but she was the only girl that ever had that particular kind of sex with Hef.) Holly was always quick and full of moans and groans and “Oh daddy” shout-outs. This from a girl who would tell Hef that everyone else fakes it in the bedroom, and here she was, to me, the biggest faker of all. After that came (no pun intended) the grand finale: Hef masturbated while watching the porn, and Holly sucked on his nipple, trying to spread herself all over him so that no one else had physical contact with him during the moment of his ultimate ecstasy. I never saw him come while having sex with anyone; he
always
masturbated. And it was always the same: too much baby oil, his hand, and the visual support of porn or the better alternative of a couple of the girls making out. It was all over with the loud, dramatic “God damn it . . . wow.” Lines we knew so well that we would laughingly mimic them exactly when they were being voiced. At this time, Holly would climb on top of Hef to snuggle and do some post-coital bonding to the exclusion of everyone (again, part of her plan of domination).

Even though Hef might have sex with three or four, or sometimes even more girls, it is important to realize that each of these experiences was brief. So truly and honestly to all the envious men out there: It all lasted as long as the time you spend (or
should
spend!) with just one woman. There are many people out there who think Hef has sex with several girls the way that they have sex with their sole partner, but it is not like that. The experiences are brief and uneventful—it’s almost as if he is doing it for show and for his ego. It is all an illusion; an illusion that he is still a swinger, a man with many women in his bed, a crazy orgiastic experience. It is just not so in reality. Many of the girls said he kept track of the number of girls and who he slept with every time. I thought it was ridiculous, but considering his egotistical obsession, it may just be the truth.

I remember being curious to see if Hef was a good lover; age aside, I wanted to see if this experienced King of Sexdom knew anything the rest of us did not. As all women know, a man’s sexual ability is best judged by the way he moves his body, whether on top of you or around you, the way he moves his hips, the way he lifts and moves your body. It is judged by the amount of time he spends pleasing you, his touch, his intensity, and his patience. Those things did not exist with Hef. It seemed to me he just laid there like a dead fish. Never thought I would say that about the icon of sexuality! In my opinion, Hef was not a good lover. No passion, no physical abilities, never a moment where I thought,
Wow.
Besides the lack of skill, there were also technical difficulties. He had a hard time getting hard. When he did, it didn’t last long. Many poor girls had to revive his extinguished flame as it died in the middle of their time with him; such awkward moments killed the spark even if there was one to start off with.